The desert air was dark and cold when we stumbled out of the van, our bodies
still heavy with sleep. The full moon cast a gray ethereal light across the
craggy rocks that lay in front of us, at the base of Mt. Sinai. We had come to
watch the sunrise from the top of this mythical peak and our journey had already
taken the shape of a dream. One of the Bedouin men who had brought us there
easily made his way through the darkness and began to lead us up the trail.
Eventually, when our eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight we put our flashlights
away and walked through the silence of the eerie, two-dimensional landscape. We
came to a clearing and were carefully picking our way amongst large mounds of
rocks scattered around us, when suddenly one of the rocks moved and a deep
bellow emanated from it. I leapt back in terror and confusion until I realized
that the rocks around us were camels. Their long necks stretched and danced like
wisps of smoke in the dim light, and they grunted their disapproval as our
passage roused them from their sleep.
The climb grew steeper and the air grew colder until at last we reached the
summit, unrolled our sleeping bags and tried to get warm, searching the sky for
any sign that dawn and the subsequent warmth of the sun might be approaching.
Other travelers to this legendary mount straggled up through the night. As the
sky grew lighter we could hear a group of monks singing as they trudged along
the path. The song grew louder as they reached the top and it accompanied the
growing colors and light of the sky in a symphony of devotion and awe. I sat on
the cold edge of a rock and watched the tops of the peaks around us take shape,
forming the jagged back of a dragon emerging from the surrounding clouds. The
sky was filled with pink and orange light and as I looked out on the sea of
clouds and fog that hung below us, I felt like I had traveled to another world.
The sun’s rays finally broke across the back of the dragon, transforming its
jutting spine into rocky mountain tops and relief flooded over me as the warmth
soothed my frozen body.
We lingered on the rocks, soaking in the heat and light of the beautiful day
before heading back down the mountain. The trail was new to us, solid now in the
light. The brilliant blue sky framed our descent and we carefully picked our way
down hundreds of crumbling steps, built by a monk to repent for his sins. I
wondered if there was a mountain high enough for the staircase I would have to
build, or if walking up and down these steps might be penance enough.
The desert air was dark and cold when we stumbled out of the van, our bodies
still heavy with sleep. The full moon cast a gray ethereal light across the
craggy rocks that lay in front of us, at the base of Mt. Sinai. We had come to
watch the sunrise from the top of this mythical peak and our journey had already
taken the shape of a dream. One of the Bedouin men who had brought us there
easily made his way through the darkness and began to lead us up the trail.
Eventually, when our eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight we put our flashlights
away and walked through the silence of the eerie, two-dimensional landscape. We
came to a clearing and were carefully picking our way amongst large mounds of
rocks scattered around us, when suddenly one of the rocks moved and a deep
bellow emanated from it. I leapt back in terror and confusion until I realized
that the rocks around us were camels. Their long necks stretched and danced like
wisps of smoke in the dim light, and they grunted their disapproval as our
passage roused them from their sleep.
We lingered on the rocks, soaking in the heat and light of the beautiful day
before heading back down the mountain. The trail was new to us, solid now in the
light. The brilliant blue sky framed our descent and we carefully picked our way
down hundreds of crumbling steps, built by a monk to repent for his sins. I
wondered if there was a mountain high enough for the staircase I would have to
build, or if walking up and down these steps might be penance enough.
